


A Model Student

by adjectivebear (HealerAriel)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: (because you know he'd go into a career that revolves around talking about his interests all day), Gen, Modern Thedas AU, Professor!Solas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 14:11:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4922680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HealerAriel/pseuds/adjectivebear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Solas encounters two of his favorite students on his first day back on the University of The Frostbacks campus after winter break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Model Student

It was snowing.

It usually  _was_ at the University of The Frostbacks during Wintermarch, though you might not have known it from the expressions of grumpy indignation worn by the students trudging around campus on their first day back from winter break. Classes didn’t start up again for another two days, but when they did, there would surely be myriad absences, the excuses for which ranging from unplowed roads to sickness, and about half of them a cover for simply not wishing to brave the cold.

Solas rather enjoyed this sort of weather, personally, but he was willing to allow that that may have had something to do with the barrier spell that shielded him from the worst of it as he made his way from his car to his office.

It  _also_  may have had something to do with how phenomenally  _dull_  he always found the breaks between semesters. He had no family, few friends outside the faculty, and since a professor’s salary was hardly conducive to exotic holidays, precious few new areas of the Fade to explore. He had tried his hand at writing a book this past summer, but having found himself to be not particularly eloquent on paper, he had quickly scrapped that idea. This left him only painting as a means of being productive, and consequently, his house was rapidly running out of walls.

The semester having not yet officially begun, he was rather surprised, upon reaching his office, to find a conversation going on just outside of it. The tall, lean figure facing away from him was unmistakably that of his graduate student, Imogen Trevelyan, her blood red hair a stark contrast to her grey sweater.

“ _Maker_ , that’s impressive,” she was saying to someone Solas couldn’t see. “All _I_  accomplished over break was thirty pages of smutty  _Enchantress of His Heart_ fanfiction.”

“Smutty?” the other voice—female, and familiar—replied. “But Marius and Lucienne haven’t even  _kissed_  yet!”

“Hence the point of fanfiction,” Imogen said with a laugh.

“I hope,” Solas said, rather enjoying Imogen’s startled jerk, “that those thirty pages were  _in_   _addition_  to the fifteen you still owe me.”

Imogen turned, offering him her most winning grin, as well as an unobstructed view of her conversation partner. Alya Lavellan smiled and waved at him, and for all that he was trying to play the role of the stern professor, Solas couldn’t help but smile back at the sight of another of his favorite students.

“Okay,” Imogen said, “so, what happened with  _that_  was—ah,” she looked deep in thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Yeah, I’ve got nothing.”

“And by midnight tomorrow, you had better have  _something_.”

Imogen sighed. “Fine. Hardass,” she added cheekily. She made to leave, then looked down at the mug she carried, frowning. She held it out to Alya. “It’s gone cold. Would you mind?”

“Oh! Of course,” Alya said, cupping her hand beneath the mug. In short order, the liquid within began to steam.

Imogen winked. “Cheers. Congratulations, again,” she said before sauntering off, presumably—knowing her as Solas did—to procrastinate a while longer before emailing him an absolutely brilliant paper at exactly 11:59.

“Congratulations?” Solas unlocked his office, gesturing for Alya to come inside if she wished.

“Ah, yes!” she said, following him into the tiny, cluttered room. Solas quickly cleared off a chair for her to sit on. “I got a modeling contract over the break.”

“Congratulations, indeed,” he said, taking a seat in his own chair, the only other surface in his office that was not strewn with books and documents. Right. Tidying up.  _That_  was what he’d meant to do this winter. “I was unaware that you modeled.”

Unaware, but not surprised. Though Alya’s intellect and magical talent was what set her apart from her classmates, if Solas had ever met a lovelier young woman, he certainly could not recall doing so.

“Just here and there, mostly,” Alya said. “This is my first proper contract.”

“That must be quite exciting for you,” he said, attempting to get his desk in some semblance of order as they spoke. “Might I ask with whom you’ve signed on?”

“Oh.” She looked rather bashful. “Er, Solange’s of Val Royeaux.”

Solas fumbled the book in his hands. He was familiar with Solange’s. Their Wintersend and Satinalia advertisements were unavoidable, as was the sudden and entirely uncomfortable mental image of his star pupil in their lingerie. “Aren’t you, ah, a bit young for that?”

Alya looked at him strangely. “I’m  _twenty_. Most models are actually a little younger.”

Solas had not known that, and was going to feel profoundly dirty the next time he saw an ad for ladies’ underthings. He cleared his throat. “Well. As long as it doesn’t interfere with your coursework.”

“Oh, it won’t!” Alya said quickly. “I made sure to get it in writing that I can work around my class schedule.  _That’s_ actually what I came to talk to you about,” she added, producing a slip of paper from her purse. “I know it’s traditionally only offered to upperclassmen, but I was wondering if I could get your approval to pick up your seminar on the nature of the Fade.”

Solas accepted the form. A student of her caliber hardly even needed to  _ask_ , but—“Aren’t you already enrolled in another of my classes this semester?”

Alya nodded. “'The Rise and Fall of Halamshiral,’ yes. I’m really looking forward to it!”

So rarely was the prospect of his lectures met with such enthusiasm that Solas couldn’t help but laugh as he signed her permission form. “You may live to regret it. I expect you’ll grow quite sick of me.”

Alya smiled warmly. “I could never.”

Solas handed the form back to her, assuring himself that the winter chill was the reason for the hot flush tingling at the tips of his ears. “I will see you Monday, Miss Lavellan.”

“Monday,” she agreed.


End file.
